


El Reloj

by Your_Angsty_Son



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adorable Fluff, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Casual Universe - Freeform, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Probably Hurt Keith Eventually, Romantic Fluff, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Substance Abuse, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, Temporary Amnesia, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, negative emotions, you will probably cry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-08-21 06:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16571135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Your_Angsty_Son/pseuds/Your_Angsty_Son
Summary: Keith gets temporary amnesia, forgetting important Bonding Moments™ in the meantime.





	1. The clock is ticking

**Author's Note:**

> Keith is 22, Lance is 21, Pidge is 18, Shiro's 29, Hunk's 21 at the start of the fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not claim to know anything about writing a good story, but this is probably my best so far.

     It's ten o'clock at night. I'm driving down an urban street in my '57 Corvet with the top down. Lance is sitting next to me. I don't remember anything leading up to this. Was I blackout drunk? Probably. Lance's head is leaning out of the rolled-down window. His hair is blowing in the wind. He's pointing to the right as we come up to an intersection. I'm turning. And then he's yelling over the roar of the wind, "That's my house. Turn into the drive," as he motions to the left side of the street.

           I turn into the driveway, tires screeching against the sudden edge of the sidewalk. Lance's house looks like a miniaturized Mexican-style villa. He turns toward me, smiling, and says, "Let's go inside." I jump out of the seat, running around to Lance's side to open his door for him. He grins up at me, standing up and almost headbutting me as he does. I look down at him, asking if he's alright, and he looks up. Our faces are only centimeters apart. I clear my throat, turning away to look at his house head-on.

    "Cute house," I say to change topic from the fact that we almost kissed. Lance exclaims, "My house is majestic! I don't know what you're talking about." He sounds somewhat embarassed. I'm glad I'm not the only one of us who feels that way. "Can I go inside or are we here to drop you off, your highness," I ask in a voice reminiscent of waitstaff. Lance snorts, breaking out into laughter. "What are you, my butler? Or do you actually not remember why we're here," Lance asks, raising his eyebrows.

   I look away akwardly, mumbling the question, "Did I get blackout drunk because I actually don't remember what happened." Lance frowns. "You seemed pretty sober to me. Come on, let's go inside and sit down, I have a lot to explain. Keith," Lance says, turning around, "Are you okay?" I realize my eyes are teary and wipe them off because, what kind of wuss cries in front of one of their best friends? I follow Lance inside, rolling up the top of my Corvet and locking it first. Once we're inside, Lance runs off to a side room, coming back with two large sarapes*, patterned with rainbow stripes. I smile, taking the blanket and wrapping myself up in it like it's a heavy cape. Lance walks into a dining room, beckoning for me to follow. I walk behind him, sitting down in a wooden chair that looks well-worn. I turn it to face him, as he's sitting in the seat beside me. Then he starts talking.

      *Sarape: A Mexican blanket-shawl, usually worn by men, typically smaller but sometimes large. (Look it up if you want full details.) 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

     We went out to a restaurant with Pidge and the team to eat and be jolly. You showed up a little late with Shiro. You had drinks. And by "drinks" I mean heavy irish whiskey. You were grinning and Shiro kept saying you were sober, which put me on edge. Hunk decided he wanted different drinks, so he ran off to the bar for us. I had to use the bathroom. Apparently you did too.

  We walked to the bathroom together, giggling about Pidge being drunk. We went into the bathroom and decided to pee next to each other, I still can't recall why. We stood there, still giggling, and mumbling gibberish into each other's ears. Once we were finished, we sat on the bathroom floor, talking about deep stuff like how we grew up and our lifes' stories. I think the team was starting to get worried, because Shiro came into the bathroom asking us why we were still in there. You told him we were bonding and he smiled, saying something like, "Come out and bond at a different table than ours if you're talking about serious stuff."

  You nodded, leading me off the floor into the restaurant and sitting down at a table about 15 feet from the table the team was sitting at. We continued talking, and the conversation led to sexual experiences we had as teenagers. We bonded further over all the similarities in our sex lives as teens. We then ended up talking about sexuality as a consequence of our sex talk. I told you how I learned I was bisexual, and all you told me was that you're gay. I made a joke about relationships between gay and bisexual people. You got really akward and the conversation staled. You said you had to go to the bathroom, mumbling something about whether I was insinuating anything.

        You came back from the bathroom about fifteen minutes later. I had ordered some nachos to share and a gin and tonic for myself. You looked like you hadn't slept in days, so I offered to let you sleep at my place once we were done eating the nachos.

        You devoured the nachos and said, "What are you waiting for? Pay and come out to the parking lot with me. I'll drive since Pidge drove you and Shiro can carpool with them on the way back." I grinned. You were being really silly, so I called the waiter over to pay. Once I had payed, you told Shiro the jist of it. We ran out to the parking lot, and you slowed down, searching yourself for your car keys. You found them and skipped off to your car, unlocking it. You then proceeded to yell at me to get in the car and, "Go go go!" I grinned, asking if you knew where my house was. You shook your head violently, grinning. I begun to direct the way to my house.

      And then we were here. You know the rest, Keith. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be worried. Hurt Keith is imminent, I'm addicted.


	2. Only broken clocks don't tick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the only time Keith's forgotten something~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I am insinuating something with that summary. Also, yes I posted early. I got more done than I thought I would, so I didn't have much homework blocking my creative time.

      I'm sitting in the chair, face hot, jaw dropping, as Lance finishes his story. "I am so sorry I forgot that, Lance. Oh god, how'd I forget that," I ask, falling forward in my chair. Lance leans toward me. I look up a bit into Lance's eyes, worry pooling in them. Lance looks down at the floor, mumbling, "Are you okay?" 

      I nod, setting my elbows on my thighs and my head in my hands. I suddenly feel Lance pull me into his arms. My face heats up, and Lance pulls away. "You need to come get some sleep, let's go," Lance says, standing and pulling me up by the armpits.

       He gestures for me to follow. I trail behind him, glancing about his house. Lance leads me through a door into a bedroom bathed in a variety of blues. I take a guess it's his room because his team slippers and blue lion figure are here. Lance sits on the bed, patting the space next to him.

   I shuffle over, sitting uncomfortably close to him. Lance tells me to lay down, pushing me over. I lay out flat on the bed, watching Lance lay next to me. Lance turns on his side to face me, telling me I can do whatever I need to to fall asleep. I ask if he will judge me if it's weird, and he answers no.

      I tell him to turn off all the lights and come lay next to me when he's done. He gets up and walks out of the room. I pull a knife out of my belt pouch, readying myself for anything. Lance walks back in a few minutes later, turning off the light and climbing into bed next to me. I turn toward him, pulling him in close, snuggling my head under his chin, falling asleep within minutes.

\----------------------------------------------------

      I wake the next morning turned completely around, Lance spooning me from behind. My cheeks immediately feel hot.  _How the living hell did he turn the spoon around that far?_

          I reach down toward my belt pouch, and Lance's hands are wrapped around my waist, covering my access to it. I tenderly remove his hands, reaching into the bag, but my knife's not there.  _Shit, shit, shit! Where's my knife?! That is the one thing I can NOT lose! Please let it be okay, please let it be okay.._  Lance shifts beside me, turning me around and putting his hands around mine.

      "Keith, don't worry about your knife. I woke up around midnight and it was just resting dangerously by your neck, so I put it in my side table. Relax, it's okay, you didn't displace it. Even if you did, I still think your mom would forgive you. You might not know where she is, but I do believe she'd forgive you." I realize I'm shaking, calming my nerves, taking a deep breath, and saying, "How.. do you ...know a.. about my mom?"

      Lance smiles, sadness swimming circles in his eyes. "You told me, silly," he says, and I almost reach up to wipe tears off his face that aren't there. _God, I wish I could remember. These stupid memory drops need to go away already._  Lance's eyes clear up for a second, worry clouding them over quickly. He speaks clearly, but worry breaks his first words, "What do you mean, memory drops? Keith, is something happening with you that I need to know?"

        My mouth subconsciously opens, and I start shaking again. "Y-you can read my mind," I yelp, eyes wide. Lance chuckles, "No, silly. You said that out loud. Also, I still wanna know what a memory drop is." I clear my head, taking a deep breath.

           "Well, my memory, as of lately, has decided to take random breaks. For example, the large chunk of time you explained to me. It may or may not have to do with my PTSD from my dad's death." Lance seems very calm, until I mention PTSD. Now he is sitting up, pulling his knees toward his chest, mumbling about familiarities.

           I sit up as well, crossing my legs over each other, subtly noticing that I'm wearing blue pajama pants and my jacket's gone. _Wait a minute, did Lance change my clothes?!_  I jump a bit, scooting over to the edge of the bed, standing up. Akwardly standing there with my back to Lance, I say, "U-uhh, where's the bathroom? And my clothes.."

           Lance suddenly jumps out of bed, grabbing my shoulders, forcing me to face him. "You put on those pajamas in the bathroom. I was in here. You were half-asleep. I _did not_  see you naked." All the while, Lance's face is on fire. I scratch the back of my neck, akwardly tittering. (*A titter is a laugh that is self-conscious, suppressed, the word for the commonly used onomatopoeia "ehehe.")

          He gives me a weird look, full of a mix of emotions. Regret, sorrow, happiness, and fear form Lance's expression, and it makes me sad to see. _I wish he only felt happiness.._  I cover my mouth, realizing I just said that aloud. My entire face is burning with embarassment. I truly cannot believe I just said that.

              It seems Lance can't, too. Before I even realize it, I've placed both hands on his face, wiping tears off of his cheeks. "Please don't cry," I mumble softly, "Or I'll start to cry too." I realize it's too late for that, my cheeks are covered in tears already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme know if I made any grammar mistakes. I might be a grammar dragon but sometimes I fuck up.


	3. Played with the minute hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me; I already have the next chapter written, I like the no-stress environment of writing a chapter in advance.

      Lance looks up, reaching his hands up to my face, placing his palms on my jaw, wiping off my tears with his thumbs. "Sorry I made you cry, Keith. That was a dick move," Lance says, staring into my eyes. We stay like this for a while, until I realize our faces are only inches apart, and he's not making eye contact anymore.

          He's looking at my lips, and I feel my face getting gradually hotter until Lance takes notice, pulling away. "Uhh... sorry, that was super akward. You should go get your clothes on, you have a lot of explaining to do. They're in the bathroom. I'll be in the kitchen. How do you like your eggs? Scrambled, or otherwise," Lance asks, going to the doorway.

         I lick my dry lips, saying, "Scrambled. Make them whatever texture, I don't care that much. Just make sure to add lots of chili powder." Smiling, I go to the bathroom door, nearly falling on my butt because of a cube on the floor. I pick it up, turning to the doorway, but Lance is gone. _Huh, I wonder what this was doing in the middle of the floor._

       I examine the cube, turning it over and over. It's a small wooden cube with no features other than wood grain and smooth sides. It is quite suspicious, I wonder if Lance knows its purpose. I decide, finally, to bring it with me, change into my clothes, and then ask Lance about it.

                               Going into the bathroom, I immediately notice that my clothes are clean and folded, sitting on the counter neatly. I look around at the bathroom. All the counters are dry, and it is practically the definition of clean. _Who knew Lance was this orderly?_ I grab my jacket, and a nicely folded origami paper crane falls to the ground. The words "Unfold me" are written on it in clean cursive.

         I begin to unfold it, gently pulling apart every fold, until it's completely opened. Written in tidy print in giant capital letters, it says, "Take a shower, idiot." I scowl. _Did he really have to call me an idiot in a note?_  I smell my armpits. It isn't an unwarranted request.

        I decide to take a shower, even if I won't use his products, to get rid of the smell. After a quick shower, I shake off, not wanting to use more of his stuff. I grab my newly cleaned clothes, get dressed, and leave the bathroom, cube in hand. Once I'm in the hallway, I smell bacon and immediately decide my only option is to run into the kitchen and steal a piece.

           I run into the kitchen, forgetting it isn't very large, and instantly faceplant into a wall. "Oh shit, man! Are you alright?!" Lance is grabbing my wrist. Lord only knows how much later, I'm sitting at the table and Lance is cooking again. _This has gone too far already._

            Lance looks over at me, asking, "What do you mean? I'm just cooking us breakfast.." I grimace. _How the hell do I explain it this time?_  I look up at Lance. "It's nothing. How long ago did I faceplant into that wall? My head still hurts," I ask, rubbing my temples.

              Lance squints, "Probably about two minutes ago. How did you forget?" I grin, akwardly scratching the back of my head. "I sorta had another memory drop. It was only two minutes this time, thank god," I say to the ground, clenching my fists. Lance doesn't notice my hands, which is good, but he's frowning, and it looks like he wishes I wasn't here.

             "Umm.. I'll just leave your weird cube here. I need to go to the bathroom," I remark, standing and walking back to the hall doorway. I need somewhere to be alone. I feel like crying with all the crazy things happening lately. Lance grabs my shoulder, keeping me from continuing to walk. "Wait! I'll come with you, I need to do something really quick," he says, walking ahead of me.

       I follow him, shoving my hands forcefully into my pockets. He goes into the bathroom, reaching into a cabinet under the sink, pulling out a neatly folded towel. I look at it, puzzled, as Lance sets it on the counter gently, so as not to loosen the folds.

                "Dry your hair, it's practically pouring water. If you need a blowdryer, it's under there with the towels. Use anything you need, just don't ransack the place, alright? I'll be in the kitchen. Feel free to come get me if you need anything," Lance says, patting me on the shoulder, walking away.

        Once he's gone, I close the door, locking it, and sit on the toilet with the lid closed. I curl my knees up to my chest, holding them there, and start sobbing, holding them in so they're quiet and unnoticeable.

 _Ijustwanttheseterriblethingstostophappeningtomeisthattoomuchtoask IjustwishIcouldrememberalready What'swrongwithme Ican'tdoanythingrightanymore Ireallyamtheworst Seriouslywhat'swrongwithme Ijustwannadiealreadysothis'llallbeoverandIwon'tha_ -

          "Keith are you alright in there? Food is ready whenever you are, there's no rush. Come out to the kitchen when you're ready. Sorry to bother you." I pull my head off of my knees, answering with a weak, "Okay." I stand up, legs shaking, and wipe tears off my face.

           Wrapping the towel around my head, I open the bathroom door and go out to the kitchen. Walking through the doorway, I trip over my own foot and nearly faceplant. Except Lance catches me. "Hey, you okay dude? I was really worried, you were in there for a long time. Come sit down with me," Lance says, pulling me toward the table. I just nod, lip quivering.

             My whole body shakes as I sit down. Lance doesn't seem to notice, but he might be hiding it. Handing me a plate, he gets up, walking to a fridge I before hadn't noticed. "Would you like some decaf coffee? I only have decaf, so the only other option is water. Don't ask why there are so few options," he says, opening the fridge and pulling out a gallon jug filled with a dark liquid, most likely coffee.

          I nod profusely, balling my hands up to calm my nerves that won't relax. Lance pulls two blue mugs out of the cabinet next to the fridge, pouring the liquid into both. He puts the jug back in the fridge, pulling out a peppermint mocha creamer, pouring it into one mug. "I take it Mulletboy only likes black coffee?"

             I shake my head, biting down on the inside of my cheek hard. _I will_ not  _allow an anxiety attack right now._  Lance pours creamer into the other mug, putting the creamer back into the fridge, closing that and grabbing the mugs. He sits down next to me, sliding a mug over.

               Reaching my hands up, I wrap them around the mug, lifting it to my mouth and gulping down all the coffee in one go. "Woah, there, cowboy, take it easy on the coffee. It never did anything to you," Lance exclaims. I grab the fork off my plate, scooping forkful after forkful of eggs into my mouth.Lance watches, stunned, as I eat all the food on my plate in under five minutes.

          "When's the last time you had a healthy meal, Keith," Lance asks, standing up, pulling the towel gently off my head, using it to tenderly dry my hair. I cock my head to the side. "Hm, probably two months ago. Why do you ask," I question. Lance audibly gasps behind me. "We need to figure out a way for you to stay with me, Keith. You have very unhealthy habits."

                 I snort, "You think that's unhealthy? Guess I'm even worse than I thought. You can stay with me, I live with Shiro. We probably have, like, ten extra rooms right now. He doesn't mind, I've had friends stay over before, and he didn't even know them. He knows you. Obviously." Lance chuckles behind me.

       "Sounds like a plan, Mullet. When should we ask Shiro?" I think on it, pulling my phone out of my belt pouch, opening it, and going into my texts with Shiro. I text him, "Hey, Takashi, can Lance live with us for a while? He wants to "Take care of me," whatever that means. He says I need to get more healthy meals and sleep, and that he needs to regulate them. We still have like 20 guest rooms, right?"

            I hit send, reaching up to feel how dry my hair is, but Lance swats my hand away. "I'm not done yet! Leave it be, Dropout!" I frown, turning to face him. Lance's grip on my hair loosens, and I pull my head away, touching my hair. 

           "Dry enough. Leave it be, Sharpshooter. I need an explanation for that weird wooden cube." Lance freezes.

            "Well, I like the movie 'Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium' and that's my favorite item from it.." I blink. "That sounds like a children's movie, Lance." The air fills with heavy silence for about 30 seconds.

           "It is." I burst into laughter, "A children's movie?! You like children's movies," I exclaim, holding my stomach. Lance scowls, "Fine. Starve for all I care." I turn around. "Lance, I was joking, okay? I wasn't being serious." A loud "FUCK!" erupts from my phone.

               Lance practically leaps into the air, yelping in surprise. I chuckle. "Sorry about that. I managed to capture one of the only moments when Shiro swears, and it's my text ringtone now. Should've warned you. Sorry, again," I say, chuckling.

           Lance snorts. "Shiro swears?! I didn't even know it ever happened, let alone had been documented. Good job, Keith," Lance manages, laughing wholeheartedly. I smile. _Why does he have to be so goddamn cute when he laughs?_  

                Lance controls his laughter, finally stopping, "Hey, what'd he say, Keith? Was it Shiro?" I grin, checking the text. It reads, "Keith, we only have four bedrooms to begin with. I don't know where you got this assumption that our house is a mansion. You helped me pick it, we both saw every room. Stop telling people our house is gigantic. Also, we only have one extra room now. As long as Lance keeps in mind that he'll be sleeping with you or on the couch when we have visitors, I'm fine with it."

              Another loud "FUCK!" resounds from my phone as a second text appears. "Um, I did NOT mean sleeping with you like that. Don't get the wrong idea. And for the love of all things good, change your text ringtone Keith. I don't want people knowing I swear sometimes. It is always VERY accidental. Stop being an ass, Keith." I smirk reading the second text, showing my phone to Lance.

           He reads the texts, face flushing when he reads the second one. Once he's done, he grins. "Shiro even swears in texts. Wow. Just.. He really is human, huh?" I snort. "Well, what'd you think he was, Lance?" Lance frowns, thinking. "Hmm.. a Dad Bot™? Is that not a correct assumption?"

         I chuckle, resisting the urge to burst out laughing. "Lance, did you just say ™ out loud like a computer? What..? I.. can't even comprehend that. ..Do you think Siri can relate?" At that, Lance's eyebrows shoot up, a grin filling his face as he breaks out into loud, chirpy laughter that sounds like pleasant birdsong.

          A small, fond smile breaks through my emotion-wall and I can't help but sigh contentedly. Lance takes notice, eyes widening as he lets out a barely audible breath of awe. I notice him staring, barely resisting the urge to smile pleasantly at him.

       He reaches his hand out and it hangs in the air by my jaw. I breath out a "Lance?" before he notices and clears his throat, stuffing the hand in his pocket. I notice my face is betraying me a second too late, feeling my whole face flush in the burning fire of embarassment.

             Lance's face mirrors my own, mouth slightly open, cheeks bright red, eyebrows raised slightly, and big blue puppy dog eyes trained on mine. I reach up to my mouth, clearing my throat very loudly right before my phone rings, another Shiro phrase, recorded directly after his "FUCK!"

           This phrase is, instead, "Keith, turn that off! You need to delete that right this second, you little-," it cuts off, repeating, before I grab my phone off the table, answering the call.

         "Uh, hey, Shiro. I'm at Lance's house, yes I'll be over today, most likely with Lance and some stuff. See you later, Shiro. Yes, I'll say hello to Lance for you. Goodbye, Shiro." I hang up, cutting Shiro off from prolonging the call.

                  Turning to Lance, I say, "Shiro says hello. He also says we need to be over there to help out with something, I don't know what, in at least three hours." Lance grins, collecting all the dishes in his arms, saying he needs to pack his necessities. I nod, shaking my almost fully dry hair around, pulling my bangs into my face.

            Sadly, having Lance dry your hair does the same thing to your hair that it does to his. My bangs aren't willing to stay in my face, willing a "Damn it!" out of me. I decide on just pulling all my hair back into a ponytail to brush off how weird I look without my bangs in my face.

        My bangs, however, have different plans for today, not staying tied back. I groan, giving in to the fate of a bad hair day.  Lance walks out a while later, a bag slung over his shoulder and two boxes hefted against the opposite side. He almost drops his boxes when he walks in, whether it's because of my appearance or clumsiness, I don't know.

       He almost looks like someone just pulled him out of a cheesy rom-com. I snort, nearly forgetting I'm the one who looks stupid in this case. Lance drops the boxes, but luckily for him I have the reflexes of a bird of prey. I swoop down, reaching both arms out desperately, somehow catching both boxes, but ending up sprawled out at Lance's feet, both boxes in my hands.

       I grin akwardly, hoping to somehow make it out of this situation socially unscathed. Unluckily enough for me, Lance's crotch is almost directly above my head, so I end up akwardly grinning at his dick. _Smart move, Keith. Really smart move._ Lance chuckles, reaching down and picking the boxes out of my hands.

            "You really need to remember that you have vocal chords, Keith." I ground myself with both hands, pushing off of the ground, standing up. "I really need to stop doing that," I retort, chuckling akwardly. Lance grins, asking if I grinned at his dick on purpose. I blatantly decline, shaking my head profusely.

                He laughs, walking to the front door, asking me to open it. I open the door, holding it there like a servant. He goes outside, walking to my car, standing there akwardly. I walk out, closing the door behind me, searching my person for my keys. Finding them, I unlock the car, telling him to get in, set the boxes in the back seat, and then go lock his doors so we can leave.

         Instead, he just throws the stuff down in his seat, running inside. Getting into my seat, I reach for my phone, pulling up my music, flipping to my favorites. I pull out the cigarette lighting extension, plugging my adapter in. As I plug the adapter cable into my phone, my absolute favorite song comes on.

       I pause, turning on the car. Once I know it will definitely play in the car speakers, I start up the song again. "Black Cat," by Mayday Parade comes out clearly, and I sing along to the blasting music.

              Lance walks out as the chorus starts, "You're like a black cat with a black backpack full of fireworks and you're gonna burn the city down right now." Lance laughs at my poor lip-syncing skills. He says something, but the music is so loud I have no clue what it is. I crank the volume down quite a bit.

       "Your lip-syncing is very bad, Keith. By the way, are those speakers original to this old ass car? They look super expensive," Lance says, forearms resting on the windowsill, leaning in toward me. I grin, shaking my head.

        He laughs, standing up and opening the door he had been leaning on. Picking up his stuff, I set it in the back seat gently. He sits down as I grab it, almost sitting on my hand. I chuckle at that, backing out of the driveway as he closes his door.

       More of my favorites, such as Augustana, play out in the car speakers. I roll down the top, "Sweet and Low," by Augustana playing gently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good luck with this story. 
> 
>  
> 
> ;3


	4. La Casa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leaving you is the last thing on my mind..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toileth in despair, worms!

            I realize that Lance is singing along to my Augustana songs. Smiling fondly, I decide that my hair looks better down when it's windy. Pulling out my ponytail holder, I feel my hair loosen and start blowing in the wind.

               Lance grins, turning to me as "Either Way, I'll Break Your Heart Someday" comes to a close. I wink, even though I have no clue whether he saw it, and kind of hope he didn't. I keep driving, and five songs later we're in the driveway of Shiro's and my house.

                  Turning off the car, I open my door, climbing out. Lance stands, boxes in his arms and the backpack over his shoulder. I walk over to him, taking the boxes, letting him close his door. Once it closes, I take the bag, handing him the boxes so I can lock the car.

              Lance grins, following suit. I walk up to the door, putting my index finger up to the doorbell. I hear a, "M'coming!" and then a very loud "Shit!" I snicker, turning to Lance. I then realize he's never met Adam.

                    The door opens, and there stands Adam, in pajamas, covered in what looks like flour. I laugh, booping him. He frowns, groaning.

                  "Another of your stupid boyfriends? Just make sure you use a condom, Ponytail. I do not want to know how many STDs you pass on to each of them," Adam mumbles over his shoulder as he walks back inside.

                I swear that my face might explode any minute now. Lance looks even more akward and embarassed. I power-walk inside, putting as much distance between us as possible while also attempting to catch Adam.

              Cupping my hands around my mouth, I yell, "He's not my boyfriend! Also I always use protection you idiot! Go fuck my brother you little shit!" Adam turns around at that, smirking. "Again? But we had almost ten rounds last night!"

                 I laugh, saying sarcastically, "I know for a fact he only lasts seven. He tells me everything, Sir Abs-A-Lot. No one expects the Spanish Inquisition, Adam! No one," I yell at his back. When I'm all nerded out, I walk to the guest room.

               Opening the door, the first thing I see is Shiro's muscley butt in the air as he makes the pullout bed. "Hey Shiro. How ya doing?" Shiro stands, turning around to me.

                    "Did you just tell my fiancé to fuck me?" I grin, slinging the backpack onto the bed. "Of course I did, dear brother. What else do you guys do?" Shiro flicks the center of my forehead. Hard. I pull my hair into a ponytail again. Shiro remarks about my ugly bangs.

               I feel a hand on my shoulder, and my fight-or-flight comes out as I spin, fist hitting whosever chest it was. Lance yelps in pain, dropping the boxes, which fall onto me. I catch the boxes, and watch Lance heave deep breaths in and out, gasping for air.

      _Oh shit. I fucking did it again. How many people do I have to injure before it sinks in?! Um, shit, I need to help. Fuck.. I'm so sorry, Lance. I'm really fucking sorry, I really am. I.. god I'm so sorry whydidIdothattoyou?! Shitshitshitshitshit pleaseforgivemeIdidntmeanit Ididntmeantohurtyou I'msofuckingsorry.._

* * *

                    Shiro smiles down at me, rubbing my shoulder comfortingly. I realize I'm in his lap. I sit up, looking at him. "What happened..?" Shiro smiles sadly, looking at the pullout.

                              Lance is sitting there, worry creasing between his eyebrows. I remember thinking that.. _Shit, did I really have a panic attack when Lance was the one who was hurt?! What level of idiot am I?!_

                        Shiro stands up slowly, offering me a hand for support. I take it, forcing down my depressing thoughts. _I thought I was done doing-and going through-this._ Shiro hugs me once I'm standing properly. _Guess not._

                       Lance braces himself to get up, wincing in pain as he does so. I push Shiro away, going to sit on the bed. "Hey, Lance. I'm really sorry I hurt you. My reflexes are a little too good, huh?" I stare down at my lap.

                                        Lance wraps his arms around me, slowly giving me a gentle hug. I force down more self-hate, wrapping my arms around Lance, who looks like he needs it. He sits up fully, pulling away. I look at Shiro's feet, trying desperately not to think about all the negatives.

                                 Lance tries to stand again, but I notice and push him back gently, so I don't injure what's probably already a dark bruise. He looks up questioningly as I stand up, but I just walk out of the room to go get some ibuprofen and tiger balm for his pain.

                         I walk into the room across the hall, my bedroom, and rummage through my cabinets until I find what I'm looking for. I stuff the medicine in my pockets, walking back into the guest room.

                                            Sitting down again, I wordlessly hand Lance the medicine, standing again to get him something to take the pills with. Lance grabs my sleeve before I leave, looking up at me desperately. "I can't take ibuprofen, Keith. It damages my kidneys, which are already bad. The tiger balm should help. Just.. leave it be, please," Lance looks really depressed, so I hold my hand out for the pills, which he hands back.

                             Exiting, I smile softly, to calm him down. Lance smiles back, and I close the door. Immediately hearing Shiro start talking to Lance, I walk into my room, plopping down on the bed.

                        I pull my phone out, opening my contacts up, texting Hunk, "Hey Hunk, this is Keith. Just had a weird Lance incident, he said he can't take pills. Any clue why?" Hunk answers, minutes later, "Won't go into full details; He had(and sometimes still has) really bad depression. Like, Chronic Depression™."

                          I get slapped with a reality log: Lance has just as many problems as me. "Thanks, Hunk." Hunk sends me back a ":)" as I facepalm for somehow not realizing sooner. A knock resounds from my door. I croak out a "Yes?" before the door opens, Adam standing there akwardly.

                   "Shiro needs the help of two idiots, McClain and Kogane." Then a mumbled, "Why is it always me he sends on his errands.." I grin, popping off my bed, going across the hall to the guest room door.

                                       "Uhhh.... Food, Lance," I somehow say the exact wrong thing, deciding to get the fuck away from there and find Shiro. Walking into the living room, where I assume Shiro is going to be soon, I sit down, noticing some weird stuff. Shiro walks in, and I nod, confused.

                         "Are we petsitting?" Shiro grins. "Where's Lance," Shiro asks, looking around. I stand. "Um, I guess I'll go get him. Wait here." I walk into the hall, knocking on Lance's door loudly. "You okay in there Lance?" The door opens, a confused Lance behind it. "Why would I not be, Mullet? You insinuating something?"

                         I grab his wrist, pulling him out, which just so happens to, with my luck, land him right on my chest. "Let's go, idiot," I say, pulling him along behind me. We get into the living room again, and sitting on the coffee table is a little pet crate.

                                      "Shiro, this better not be another Yorkie. I. Am. Allergic. Remember," I ask him, crossing my arms. Shiro grins. "Well it isn't, so come over here." I give in, dragging myself to the couch, sitting down. Shiro turns the opening towards me.

                                    Opening it, he pulls out a beautiful Siamese cat, with big blue eyes and a content look on its face. "I bought you a cat for your late birthday, Keith." 

                                 I gasp, pulling the majestic creature into my arms, petting it under the chin and low behind its ears. It emits a pleasant, low rumbling from its throat, leaning into the gentle touch.

                                "I know, those are the best spots, right? My personal favorites," I say to the cat, as if it could answer me and only I would know. Shiro smiles, beckoning Lance over. "What will you name her, Keith," Shiro asks.

                                   I don't think about it for a second, "She'll tell me once she knows." Lance snorts. "Well, how about La Casa," Lance suggests. I tilt my head. "Did you not hear me? She'll tell me when the time comes," I say, annoyed.

                              But that does kinda sound right. Maybe she'll want that one. I mumble, sorta to myself, mostly to the beautiful creature sitting in my lap, "La Casa?.." She purrs further, even though I've stopped petting her, my hand resting gently on her back.

                                 A small, fond smile works onto my face at the fact that she likes the name Lance suggested. A hand, I don't know whose, reaches over hesitantly, trying to pet her. I swat it away before it touches her, and Lance grumbles sadly.

                    Guilt immediately fills me. "Sorry. Guess I'm a bit overprotective, I'm already attached. Hah, what a dad thing to do. You can pet her if she'll let you, Lance." Looking up with the hope that he's not mad, I'm very surprised to see a little smile play at the corners of his mouth.

                           "Wow, Keith, you're already on your way to fatherhood. Luckily for you, I named her well, and that doesn't mean something like manure. Heh.. manure. Has she accepted her beautiful name?" I look down at her, mumbling the name again, and a pleasant purr emits from her again.

                             Looking back at Lance, I nod, continuing to pet her, rubbing tiny circles up and down her neck. Lance grins, and I almost audibly gasp in awe as his eyes light up.

                                         Shiro clears his throat, standing up. "Keith, Lance. I have a task for you. My anniversary with Adam is tomorrow, and Keith, you know my history with kitchens and appliances. I need you to bake him some brownies for me. Please, I'm terrible with cooking. And both of you need to do it. Keith needs supervision, and Lance doesn't know the house, and you guys need more time alone, to work out everything that's been happening. This is a perfect opportunity for just that."

                                   I stand, carrying La Casa to my room so I can get ready to bake. Closing my door, I set her on the bed, a twin mattress, because Shiro emphasises that I need to be safe. Walking to the closet, I open it, pulling down a really old outfit of mine from the years I baked(and home economics.)

                                  It's a black wifebeater, red plaid button-up shirt to use as a jacket, and a pair of whitewash jeans. Stains and flour coat each clothing article. _Good luck not looking stupid in this outfit, **Keith.**_

                             Getting dressed, I prepare for the bloodbath that's about to happen. I end up putting deodorant on before I feel clean. Walking out into the hallway, Lance bumps into my chest. I grab his arm, pulling him along behind me as I walk briskly to the kitchen.

                                              A gasp escapes his mouth once we enter the kitchen. "How often do you guys use this," Lance asks, gesturing to the kitchen.

                                      I chuckle, saying, "Who? Shiro and me? I almost never use the kitchen, and Shiro just eats leftovers of Adam's food. Adam uses this place all the time, though, he loves cooking. I wouldn't say it's the best food I've ever had, but it isn't bad, so that's something."

                                         Lance runs over to the spice rack, a two-by-three foot cabinet with a glass display mounted to the wall. Throwing open the door, he examines each individual spice. I walk to the fridge, getting out all the liquid ingredients.

                             "We need salt, cocoa, baking powder, and sugar, Lance. The cabinets to your right have those sorts of things. If you know anything weird you think he'll like, go ahead and get it if it's there."

                            Lance sets the spices he was examining on the rack, closing the door and pulling out the baking powder, sugar, salt and cocoa. He walks to me, setting them down as I pull out two bowls, a whisk, and two spoons.  

                            I pour the dry ingredients into the larger of the two bowls, cracking the eggs into the smaller bowl and whisking them together. I measure out my vanilla, pouring it in with the eggs, whisking again.

                                         Once I've mixed all the ingredients separately, I satisfyingly pour the wet ingredients in with the dry, sliding the bowl over to Lance. "You know how to mix the brownies, right?" Lance just stares at the bowl blankly. "Where'd all your eggs-and-bacon flare go, Lance? Do you not bake?"

                                    Lance continues to stare blankly at the bowl, looking up at me desperately. I grab the bowl, mixing the batter together, pulling out a glass brownie pan. Quickly buttering the pan, I pour in the brownie mix, walking to the oven, setting it to 350°F, sitting cross-legged on the ground to watch the oven heat up. 

                   Lance squats down, plopping onto his butt next to me. "Do you always set the oven last, Mullet?" I chuckle, opening the oven, holding my hands in front of the heat. "Yeah, I do. I always forget to set it first, and kinda enjoy sitting here. I get to contemplate, this way."

                                     Lance yawns, leaning on my shoulder. Reaching my hand up, I set it on his right shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. He reaches between my legs, setting his hand on the ground, pushing himself up. I let my hand fall off his shoulder as he sits.

                         Looking up, I realize the oven is ready and stand to place the brownies in. I grab an oven mitt off the counter, taking the brownie pan and setting it on the middle rack. I set the oven timer to nineteen minutes and walk to the far wall from the oven, where the kitchen table and chairs are.

                                  I call Lance over, pulling a chair out. Lance sits, and I sit in the chair across from him. We sit there in silence until Lance decides to speak up. "Why'd you get that good at baking, but you don't ever bake?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have fun~


	5. Conflictions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hospitalized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for this angsty mess of a chapter.

                                             I hold back the urge to grind my teeth and clench my fists as I look down at the table, remembering the incident years ago. Lance's eyebrows crease downwards as he looks at me, his worried expression slowly getting more intense. I prepare to hold back tears as I start speaking.

                           "When I was about nine years old, my dad died. He was a firefighter, and he went back into a fire he was told not to so he could save a kid who was still in the house. It was a baking fire.

                               I ended up keeping it a secret for a while and staying in our old house, but then child protection services found me and I ended up in a home. I got in trouble a lot, but a couple times I would actually do what they wanted. One of those things was a cooking class I was dragged into.

                                          I excelled in baking, but when I tried actively cooking it was dangerous. One time I started a fire, but it was put out quickly. Then Shiro found me, and I ended up at the Garrison. Every so often, I found somewhere to bake again, and it was awesome. But that was short-lived. Shiro took me to his grandparent's old house once, and I baked different things for hours on end.  

                                  Towards the end of the day, I was really tired, but I had one last thing I wanted to make, and it bakes on low for quite a while. Shiro and I decided to sit down and watch a movie until the food was done, but both of us fell asleep quickly.

                                                     I woke up later to Shiro shaking me awake, smoke and flames surrounding us, and I had to help him out because his muscles were slowly failing and it was, obviously, worse with smoke as the only thing we could breath, so we were heaving in smoke and coughing out blood soon enough.  

               Luckily, there were neighbors, and those neighbors called the fire department, and as we were coming out of the house, the police and a fire unit showed up. The house didn't survive, and we had burns, both outside our bodies and inside, but the burns in our lungs were far less damaging. He was hospitalized for three weeks, I was for four, and we both needed surgery for our third degree burns.

                                                 That's why I always wear my gloves and have akward burn scars. I'm also terrified of that happening again, so it's best just not to bake at all. I'm almost always sleep-deprived these days, so baking is just scary.

                                     Please don't tell the others, they don't need to know. It's like my sexuality, you don't need to know it to know who I am as a person." By the time I finish, Lance is holding a hand over his open mouth, tears welling in his eyes from second-hand anguish.

                                                          I bite down on the inside of my cheek so hard it bleeds, and I surprise myself with my own strength. And yelp in pain as my mouth fills with blood. Not to mention grab a handful of napkins to spit blood out onto because I risk choking if I swallow it with how much blood there is already.

                                                      Lance jumps out of his chair, opening like ten cabinets until he finds a bowl for me to spit blood into. I grab it, favoring this to holding a napkin against my raw flesh.

                                             "What the actual fuck, Keith?! What happened?! I'm so confused right now! Did you just **bite** your cheek?! Are you okay?! Ahhhhhhhhhhhh Shiro's gonna kill me.." I quickly empty most of the blood out of my mouth to talk to Lance, but it still comes out with gurgles between syllables.

                                       "Lance, it's not your fault. I just don't like other people crying for me. If I wanted crying done, I'd do it myself. Also I think my jaw muscles are way stronger than I previously believed. Shiro'll understand, don't worry. Also, yes, I bit my cheek. Please calm down, this isn't fun for me either."

                                                             I spit another mouthful of blood into the bowl, coughing. "Please go get Shiro." Lance practically sprints out, screaming for Shiro in a panic.

                                  Only a couple minutes later, Shiro rushes into the room with a washcloth in his hand and Lance's sleeve clutched in the other, Lance trailing behind him. 

                                               I growl unconciously at the notion of Lance's sleeve in Shiro's hand, glaring at Shiro's fist on Lance. Lance realises what I'm glaring at, pulling his arm away from Shiro. I sigh, exhausted, as more blood escapes my lips in streams.

                                            Spitting the blood out, I allow Shiro to shove the washcloth into my mouth. Shiro picks me up like a sack of potatoes, carrying me to the front door.

                                      I watch Lance struggle to catch up, slapping Shiro's butt, managing through the washcloth, "Shlowh hhhthe phuckh zhown, Thirho!" Shiro chuckles, slowing his pace.   

                                          I reach out, grabbing Lance's jacket collar, dragging him along with me. Lance raises an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't like my clothes being grabbed, Mullet." I snort, saying something along the lines of, "Bitch, I dislike **other**  people grabbing your clothes. Not myself. I'm not above pulling you along."

                                                       Lance grabs my shirt collar, keeping pace now that we're practically attached. Shiro slams the door open, and I imagine the hole that must be leaving in our siding. _Damnit, Shiro, chill the fuck out! We aren't rich, we can't just keep ruining the siding every time one of us gets injured!_

                                                   Shiro throws open the back door of his car, chucking me in, and Lance and I let go of each other. My side slams against the opposite door, and I buckle in, adjusting my right side away from the door as Lance slides into the seat next to me, closing his door. I buckle him in, taking the washcloth out of my mouth to look at how much blood is on it.  

                                                          I shift the side that's against my injury to a clean side, shoving it back into my mouth. Lance holds my chin, turning my face toward him. "At least you can't see any injury outside of your body. Well, the bloody rag gives it away, but if not for that, it wouldn't be a visible wound. That's good, right Dropout?"

                                           I start to nod, but Shiro backs out of the drive jarringly, and the side of my head slams against the seat. I groan, rubbing my throbbing skull. Lance alerts Shiro to the fact that he needs to slow himself or I'll be further injured, and I'm thankful, because the car steadies, driving more smoothly. Lance turns back to me, and we both seem to realize something at the same time. 

                                           Lance turns back to Shiro, saying, "You need to let.. uh... Adam? Know that once the timer goes off, his brownies are done, because otherwise a fire might start." Shiro nearly swears, but pulls his phone out of his pocket, handing it back to me. Hands shaking, I open up his texts with Adam, starting to type.

                                                       'Hey, Adam. This is Keith. We were making you anniversary brownies, but I bit myself by accident, and it's serious, so could you maybe pull your brownies out of the oven once the timer goes off? I really don't want our house to burn down. ^^;' 

                                                 Lance pets my hair, pulling tangles out gently as he runs his fingers through my hair reassuringly. I smile at him through the washcloth, resting my head against his shoulder as I see Adam's text appear.

    'Yeah, you okay? How'd you bite yourself?'

                                                    I snort, texting, 'I was telling Lance, who you thought was my boyfriend for some reason, why I don't bake anymore. And he cried. And you know how much I hate second-hand crying. I don't realize my own strength till it's slapping me in the face. Or, rather, biting the inside of my cheek. Hard. It drew blood. A lot of blood. Shiro's taking me to the hospital.'

                                             I close the messages, opening up my "Injury diary" on Shiro's phone-a Diary app, but he uses it to track all my injuries. Opening up a new entry, I type in the date and time, writing the details of this injury so far. Lance chuckles. "Mulletboy has a diary? Surprising."

                                                        I save the entry, showing Lance the main screen, with the dates, times, and entry names, which are all the types of injuries, and Lance goes surprisingly quiet. "Vertical vein cut," he squeaks out, sounding scared. "Like, a purposeful vein cut?" You.. you did that on purpose. Right?" 

                                                                  I hesitate, nodding slowly, hoping he won't notice. Shiro clears his throat, breaking the dead silence.

                                                        "Lance, this doesn't change anything. He's still Keith. It was a while ago, too. Look at the date and time. It's my injury diary for him. He doesn't get out of writing the entry just because it's self-harm. It could be much worse. Just let him enter his injury. We'll be at the hospital soon."

                                                     Lance looks back down at the screen, but I've closed the app, Adam's new text on screen.

                                                   'But you know you guys would be a cute couple. I see how you look at him. Those big puppy eyes, like you've never loved anyone else more. Heh, I hope he reads this, so you have to admit to it, EdgeLord™'

                                                    Immediately after reading it, I turn off Shiro's phone. Lance scoffs. "Mullet, I didn't even get a chance to read it. What did it say?" I shake my head profusely, refusing to let him read it.

                                    Shiro announces our arrival at the hospital, and I take the chance to throw Shiro's phone at him, opening my door and leaping out of the car. I'm already at reception, explaining my injury to the nurse once Shiro and Lance reach me. I finish explaining, and the nurse tells us which area to go to wait for a doctor.

                                                 Shiro pulls me back with them, and I walk on the opposite side of Shiro as Lance, trying to hide the blush that's creeping up my neck.  Shiro notices, hugging me to his side to help cover my face as I blush more and more.

                                                               Lance looks over at me, confusion, fright, and loneliness muddling his resting content look. He looks like a lost puppy. We get to the waiting area, and I wait for Lance and Shiro to sit first, sitting as far from Lance as possible. Lance looks over at me, and I barely resist the urge to get up and go cuddle Lance to make him stop looking so sad.

                                                      Before I can even attempt to stand again, a fit of coughing overtakes me and I pull the washcloth out of my mouth, holding it in front of my face as I cough up blood. Shiro scoots over to me through a row of chairs, rubbing circles on my back to sooth the ache from coughing.

                                                      Lance continues to look over at me with the same look on his face, and through coughs I tell Shiro to go make Lance stop looking at me like that. Shiro stands, going over to Lance, saying something unintelligible, and Lance looks back at me once more, puppy-dog eyes in full effect, before looking down at his lap.

                                                    We're called back to the examination room, and I stand, pushing the washcloth against my wound with a flinch as I walk down a hall to find out how much damage I did to myself. The doctor is sitting in a chair, looking at her computer, when I enter. She looks to me, stands, and rips the washcloth out of my mouth.

                                                          I groan as she instructs me to sit on the metal table-even though the only injury is in my mouth. Shiro and Lance walk in as I push myself onto the table, sitting back akwardly. Dr. Payne asks me what happened, but my mouth is half-full of blood, so it comes out through gurgles, and blood trails down my chin.

                                                   She gets me some cloth to wipe blood off of myself as I explain everything. Once I'm done explaining how it happened, she gets a popsicle stick to lever my mouth open while she holds a flashlight in the opening to examine the wound. A while later, she tells me I need stitches, and that it will be a minor surgery, but nonetheless needs antibiotic and painkillers.

                                                              She gives me the medicine, waiting for it to take effect before starting to stitch the wound closed. Lance and Shiro are taken out of the room for this, and I watch as they exit, Lance looking at the ground solemnly.

                                                       The stitching done, I'm given the antibiotics and painkillers to take with me and Shiro helps pay the hospital bill. Shiro drives us home, and none of us talk. Until Shiro's phone dings with a text from Adam. Shiro hands me the phone to answer him.

                                                              'I take it this is Shiro now, so I wanted to tell you the house didn't burn down and that we need to get Keith and his friend together. Xoxo -Adam.'

                                                       I grumble, turning Shiro's phone off, handing it back to him. "What did he say, Keith? Something like, "Are you alright now?" Or was it stupid?" I groan, looking out the window. "Just stupid stuff."

                                                    Shiro laughs, and soon enough we're back at the house. I open my door, walking to the front door, opening it. I walk straight into a low-hanging mistletoe.

                                            "Oh, please no. I am not going to deal with this again." I rip down the stupid chunk of plastic, throwing it on the ground. Lance scoffs behind me. "What are you, Anti-Christmas-Mulletboy™?" I glare back at Lance, walking to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance saying ™ aloud like it's a word is my life.


	6. Painkillers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is HEAVY.

                                              Walking over to the sink, I wash the dishes from baking, putting all the ingredients away where they belong. Lance enters behind me, and as I turn around to leave I bump into Lance.

                                           "Hey Keith. What was that text from Adam that made you ignore me for so long? If it's something I did wrong, I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to offend you, or make you angry. Please don't keep ignoring me, I don't wanna be around you without being able to talk to you. Just, please, tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it."

                                                         I push myself away from his warm, soft shirt and body, trying to somehow explain it in a platonic way, so things don't get weird.

                                                                 "He kept insisting you were my boyfriend and it just.. made me uncomfortable, I guess? It's uh," I clear my throat, "Hard to explain."

                                            Lance sighs in relief. "So, I guess you're just uncomfortable with the idea of us in a relationship. I, uh.. I guess that's better? I don't... I don't know what the proper reaction is in this case."

                                                         I glance up at his confused, deer-in-headlights look and have to hold back the wimper of emotional pain that longs to be released from my throat. Lance looks at me and holds his arms out as if he wants a hug.

                                                     I wrap my arms around him tightly, pulling myself closer to him, heart racing because he's so close. He clasps his arms around me as well, and I set my head in the crook of his neck. Lance pulls me closer and I don't resist, longing for more affection. I take a deep breath, and can't help but be overwhelmed by all the Lance I'm getting in one sitting. He smells like home, as if I exist to be with Lance and he is my home.

                                                         Lance asks a really good question as I continue breathing him in. "Can we do this more often?" I nod against the warmth of his skin, and he sighs contentedly. Without thinking I do something remarkably stupid and definitely not platonic.

                                                      I kiss his neck. Only once, but enough to get a point across that I've really been trying to hide. Lance pulls away, giggling. "What was that?" Looking down at the ground, I mumble, "Nothing," walking away. As I walk, Lance sets his hand on my shoulder.

                                   "Um, let me.. let me know if you need any more pain medications, Shiro's keeping them in my room."

                                                              Nodding, I continue walking, and once I'm through the doorway I see Shiro and Adam standing there, Adam's thumb pointed down. "You could've told him the truth, Keith."

                                                             I push past him mumbling, "Now's not the time." As I reach my room, I veer over, opening Lance's door and grabbing the bottle of painkillers off his dresser. Shutting the door behind myself, I enter my room, greeting La Casa with the running of my hand along her back.

                                     Jumping over to my bed, I plop down. Gripping the lid of the drug container, pushing it down and turning it, I pull the loose lid off the bottle, shaking around seven pills into my hand.

 _This should be good. After all, no one ever properly uses their painkillers. I like the pain so a couple hours worth of this low should be awesome without interupting my daily life._  

                                           Popping half the pills into my mouth, I grab a glass of day old water off my nightstand. Taking a couple gulps of the liquid to down the pills, I repeat the process for the rest of the pills that sit in my palm.

                                                            Lying down, halfway propped up on pillows, I grab my TV remote, turning on my TV to watch some older anime. Entering Huyu, I click into my profile, entering "Continue Watching" and picking Assassination Classroom. Episodes later, the painkillers have really gotten to me and the numbness fills my body.

                                                                A feeling somewhat similar to an alcohol buzz fills my head, and my coordination is terrible once I pause the episode, standing to get a snack from the kitchen. Lacking decent depth perception, I bump into the door, opening it and humming loudly along to the melody of "Lemon Boy" by Cavetown as I stumble my way to the kitchen.       

                                                      Hearing voices from the kitchen, I stop, eavesdropping. "-Hiro, we both know it was Keith who took them from my room." 

                                                A masculine voice fills my ears next. "Don't assume it was Keith, Lance. Sure, he has a history of these kinds of-" Shiro's voice is cut off as I briskly walk into the room, slapping him.

                                                Trying my hardest to sound sober, I speak loudly to Shiro. "How dare you! I never allowed you to disclose personal information about me! Especially to Lance! Fuck you, Shiro. I'm gonna go get a clementine out of the fridge. Goodbye."

                                                      Slowly slurring my words more as I finish speaking, I walk to the fridge, opening it. Staring intensely at the contents of the fridge for a while, I realize I've been looking at the clementines this whole time, pulling two out of the fruits drawer.

                                                Grasping my knife handle, I pull my dagger out of its sheath and carve lines into the peels in a spiral. Sliding my fingers under the top of the spiral, I peel the tiny oranges and pull a couple slices off one, popping it into my mouth.

                                         Clapping Lance on the shoulder, I quickly finish chewing, laughing mockingly at him. "Yes, I took the painkillers. Yes, I already took like seven. Yes, you don't need to worry. Byyyye!"

                                            Waggling my fingers at Lance, I walk out, clementines in hand as I stumble to my room. Once in my room, I jump onto the bed, finishing the first clementine. As I start the episode, a series of knocks sounds from my door.

                                            "Yeahhh? I.. m trying to watchh somehing." Lance opens the door, shutting it behind himself and walking over to my bed.

                                                "Um.... can I sit on the bed?" I pause the episode, looking up at Lance.

                                                "Wwell, of couurse you cannn, nothhhin's stoppin' yaaa." Lance sits, looking at me, worry clouding his face.

                                                "You really need to be more careful with your body, Keith. You'll end up ruining your kidneys. Believe me, it's worse having ruined kidneys than you think it is." I turn, crossing my legs in order to face him fully.

                                                         "Yyyeah, they alllwayyys ssay thattt, buuuut it'sssss kiiiiinda haaaard to believvvve." Lance looks me in the eyes, pushing me further onto the bed and frowning.

                                                "Keith, you need to sleep off the drugs. And if you even attempt to misuse them again Shiro and I will throw away all the pills where you can't find them." I sit up, pushing him down onto the bed.

                                             "Whatever. I can live with the pain, it's enjoyable. Just throw them away, there's no reason for me to have them if they're only allowed to be used for pain." Lance sits, staring intently at me.

                                      "Fine. Give me the pills, Dropout." Grabbing the pill bottle, I chuck it into his lap.

                                    "Take 'em! I don't need to not feel pain. Hell, I **enjoy**  it, Lance. Just.. take the goddamn pills, Lance."

                                            Lance grabs the pills out of his lap, looking back up at me with a pained expression. Standing, Lance walks to the door, turning back around to look at me like a sad puppy.

                                                  "Fuck you, Lance. Staring at me with such a pathetic look on your face isn't helping. Just fucking leave, Lance! I don't wanna see your face! Leave me the fuck alone! Or I'll have to make you!"

                                                    Lance raises his eyebrows and it looks as if he's about to cry. He closes the door, a wimper echoing from the hallway. Laying down all the way, I think about cuddling Lance and fall asleep quickly. Forgetting most of the day's activities once I awake early the next morning, I sit up in bed.

                                                    As I'm standing, a migraine throbs through my skull. "Mmmmhh, what happened yesterday?" Everything comes back in a moment and I groan, exhausted. Not bothering to change into clean clothes, I walk out into the hallway and look out a window at the end of the hall.

                                               "Jeez, what time is it? It's barely light outside." Surprised by the early time, I continue staring out the window, amazed by the beautiful colors and scenery outside so early in the morning. A voice from behind me shocks me out of the breathlessness of a sunrise.

                                                   "It's like five a.m, why are you awake Keith?" Jumping a bit in surprise, I turn, facing Shiro.

                                                "Hey Shiro. I really woke up early this morning, huh?" Shiro looks down at me, concerned.

                                                   "You in any pain, Keith?" Staring blankly at Shiro, I touch the stitched wound with my tongue, pain shooting from my cheek. 

                                                         "Only if I fuck with it. Also probably when I eat." Shiro winces, staring at me with a scared expression.

                                                 "Be careful eating then." I nod, walking past him, letting La Casa out of my room. The cat darts away to the living room. I follow her, spotting a food dish and a large storage container filled with cat food against a wall. Walking to them, I open the large container, scooping food into her dish and setting it on the ground next to the container.

                                                       La Casa struts over to her dish, starting to eat. I walk away to the kitchen, sitting on a dining room chair. Changing my mind, I get off the chair, sliding onto the tiled floor and laying there. My exposed skin feels the cold seep through it as if ice is laying against it.

                                                              I lay there, staring up at the ceiling as I think over my actions yesterday. The only thing I can't recall is how I fell asleep so quickly. Eventually thinking over everything tires me and my eyelids drift shut. Floating off to sleep, I dream of Lance.

                                                          Nothing very specific, but his eyes are so etched into the dream that once I awake, only his eyes remain and they're all I remember of the dream.

                                                       When my eyes slide open, I'm still lying on the kitchen floor. Sitting up, my head spins and my cheek is throbbing. Letting the pain consume me, I stand, nausea taking its full effect. "Woah... I really need to sit down."

                                                   Trying to walk to the chairs, I'm taken by the nausea and my vision's spotted with colors that aren't actually there. Once the nausea takes over, I have to hold back from puking so much that I fall, tailbone hitting the ground before anything else.

                                                           Pain shoots up my spine, and I yelp in distress, nearly puking. Groaning loudly, I hold the back of my freezing hand against my head, and have to take my hand away because my head feels like boiling water on my cold hand. "Hey, guys! Really, anyone! I need some help in here or I'm gonna puke!"

                                                               Trying my hardest to speak loudly while also holding back puke, I call out for someone. Lance runs into the room, looking around a bit before his gaze settles on me. "Holy shit, Keith! You look terrible!"

                                                      He rushes over to me, picking me up bridal style, and I set my nauseous head against his chest. "Mmmmmmhhh.... Lance, I-"

                                                Cutting myself off in order to hold in puke, head spinning, I groan, trying to stabilize myself. Lance holds onto me tighter, rushing to the bathroom next to my room. "Just hold on a bit longer, Keith. I know you need to puke, but we'll be there soon, so try to hold it in."

                                                              I nod a bit, holding puke in again. We reach the bathroom and Lance sets me down next to the toilet. I put my head down, puking into the toilet, throat burning. I finish, and as I'm about to look back up, I vomit again. A couple rounds later, I'm finished puking and motion to Lance for water.

                                                      He fills a glass that rests on the vanity with tap water, handing it to me. I take a glug, gurgling the water and spitting it back out into the toilet. Wiping my mouth, I groan, head spinning further. "You.. you okay, Keith?"

                                              Lance squats down next to me, rubbing circles on my back. Looking up at him, I nod. "I think I'm sick."

                                                         Lance smiles gently at me, grabbing a wet washcloth off the counter and handing it to me to clean myself off. Taking it, I wipe around my mouth, cleaning puke off my hand. "Thanks," I say weakly, flushing the toilet.

                                                         "I really didn't wanna get sick this time." Grinning at Lance, I feel most of the nausea slip away. Laughing at my own stupidity, I stand, grabbing my toothbrush and toothpaste. Squirting toothpaste onto the bristles, I shove the toothbrush into my mouth, brushing my teeth.

                                                          Once I finish, I spit out all the toothpaste, washing off the bristles of my toothbrush. "I should be fine. A bit of rest and I'll wash off the cold. Just wait a couple days. Oh, wait. Shit! What am I gonna tell my boss? I mean, I'm not super sick, I could just go into work tomorrow. I guess it'll be a while before I'm not sick anymore then. Nevermind. I'm gonna go take a nap, maybe I won't be sick when I wake up."

                                                     Turning, I leave, walking over to my door and entering my room. Exhausted already, I slide under the covers of my bed, not bothering to close my bedroom door. I fall asleep almost immediately, dreaming very vaguely of a future by Lance's side.

                                         Hours later, I wake up. Lance is laying next to me on top of my blankets, sound asleep. Facing him, I realize how peaceful he looks asleep. Not wanting to disturb that peace, I stare, unmoving, at his face. Drifting off again, I dream hazily.

                                                        When I awake again, Lance is sitting up, staring at me, with a hand tangled in my hair. I stare, dreamy, at his face. An expression of relaxation is on his face as he plays with my hair. I don't think he realises yet that I'm awake, so I stay still, not wanting him to stop playing with my hair because of how good it feels.

                                                          Lance finally realises I'm awake and pulls his hand away. Surprised, I sit up, reaching a hand out, about to tangle my fingers into his hair, but I stop myself, hand hanging in the air by his ear. "Keith?" Lance interupts my thoughts.

                                                              "I was just worried about you. Shiro called in sick for you because you slept late. It's alright, Shiro said your boss understood."

                                                       I lean my head onto his shoulder, sighing. "Lance, you could've woken me up," I mumble into his shoulder, heat covering my flustered face.

                                                    Lance chuckles, shaking his head. "Even if I had wanted to, I wouldn't have been able to wake you up, Keith. You look so peaceful when you're asleep it's almost scary. I like that."

                                           Smiling into Lance's shoulder, I reach my arms around his torso, moaning lightly as he pulls me closer. Lance takes notice, letting out a gasp of surprise. Whispering into his shoulder so he can't hear me, I confess how I feel, explaining it but not saying the words that I'm scared are true.

                                                 I think Lance has been listening intently, because he laughs a little bit. Lance pushes me away. "What are you whispering about, Mullet?"

_Nevermind, he wasn't listening._

                                                             Laughing, I say, "Nothing important. It doesn't matter."

                                       Lance laughs, shuffling to the edge of the bed, standing. "I'll be in my room if you need me. Just make sure to knock."

                                                       I nod as Lance leaves, closing the door behind himself. Once he's gone, I attempt to write out everything I had whispered into his shoulder, but every attempt is terrible and I end up crumpling all of them up and then ripping up the balls of crumpled letter.

                                                Hours of attempts later, ripped up, crumpled paper surrounds me. I bend down, cleaning up the mess in distress. As distressed as I am, I walk to the dresser that holds up my TV.

                                             Opening the second drawer from the top, I peel back some spray-painted masking tape to reveal a small collection of sharp objects- shards of glass, industrial razors, pins, rusty nails, screws, even scraps of metal with sharp edges.

                                        Taking a pin and some scrap metal, I walk to the closet, stepping in, closing the door behind me, and then squatting down, pulling my clothes away from my outer thighs. The pin in one hand, metal in the other, I press them hard against opposite thighs.

                                           Dragging them down from the front to the back of my thighs while still pressing just as hard, I continue this process for a while, until blood is making my shaky hands slip. I pull my boxers and pants back up, feeling the fabric drag across my open wounds.

                                                      Once my pants are pulled up, I stand painfully, the material of my boxers continuing to rub against my cuts. Reaching a hand between my pants and boxers, I feel the boxers to see if they're soaked yet. Luckily for me they aren't, so I open the closet door, coming out and walking out of my room to the hallway.

                                            Knocking on Lance's door multiple times, my anxiety slowly relieves itself. I hear a panicked "Yes?" from the other side of the door, and open it slowly. Lance is sitting on the pullout with a small amount of blood on his hands, which are holding his sleeves down. "Where's that blood from?"

                                                           Lance looks up at me, and immediately I know. "I'll go get a washcloth." 

                                               Lance looks at me, confused, and I smile at him. "Me too." He stares, eyes watering, and before I can see him cry, I turn around for his sake. "I'll be back."

                                                                  I walk to the bathroom, opening a cabinet, pulling out a brown washcloth and wetting it slightly. Walking back to Lance's room, I sit down next to him, pulling his jacket sleeves up.

                                                 With his forearms exposed, I can see the cuts on them now, and I take his left wrist in one hand, wiping the washcloth across his wounds to clean them. I repeat the process on his right arm as he stares at me in amazement.

                                                 Once I'm finished, I look at him in understanding. "Yeah. You're not the only one, Lance. I know it helps. It's terrible for our bodies, but it helps, right?"

                                                       Lance presses himself against my side, sobbing. "Yeah. It- it helps! A.. a lo-ot." I pull him closer, petting his head, tangling my fingers into his hair with one hand. The other hand traces patterns across his back soothingly.

                                                 Lance's scattered cries break my heart, and I tell him everything will be alright, even though I realize that's probably a lie. Eventually he stops crying, relaxes, and sits up, thanking me. "Why would I not help you, Lance? You matter to me."

                                                     Lance smiles, a smile as bright as the sun and just as blinding. Then he looks down, staring at my waist, and his expression stales. "Is that blood on your pants? It's not mine, right?"

                                                          I look away akwardly. "No, it probably isn't yours."

                                                 Lance looks back up. "How do you think you slept for two days straight, Keith?"

                                            I look back at him. "I was sick, right?"

                                                        Lance shakes his head. "No, Keith. You barely slept for two days straight. On and off we watched old anime on Huyu together. Do you not remember?"

                                                          I think about it for a while, but nothing comes to mind of the last days. Shaking my head, I stare at Lance, attempting to remember even a tiny bit of what happened, to no avail. Disappointment fills Lance's face.

                                               Standing, I squeak, "I'm sorry! I really am, Lance! I don't know what happened, I probably had another memory drop! And, you know, now that I think about it, it's probably a side effect of the meds that Shiro controls! So, yeah, either I'm extremely moody and bipolar, or continue forgetting important things!"

                                                   Lance reaches a hand out, grabbing my shoulder, and pulls me down. I land on his chest, yelping as I try to stand again, but Lance is holding onto my wrist now. "Please, Keith, just.. let me explain something."

                                                            I relax a bit, wimpering in pain because my cuts were reopened when I struggled. "I told you something, and I didn't know if you heard it, but it looked like you had when you woke up. After you were awake, though, you acted like you hadn't, and.. I don't think I have the courage to tell you again. I need you to explain the memory drops to me so I can help."

                                                      I pull out of his grasp, sitting next to him, looking away. "They started a couple weeks ago. When it started, only a couple minutes would be forgotten. That's happened around ten times. Then it progressed to around five or ten minutes. Those have happened about fifteen times, and after that it was the one that was like an hour long, and a new development is like a day. Altogether, it's happened twenty-seven times."

                                                       Lance sets his hands under my arms, pulling me to him. "I'm sorry. We'll figure it out, Keith."

                                           Feeling my face heat up, mouth agape, I think I remember what he said. But it might've just been such a good dream that I remember it. The scene replays in my head.

                                           We were laying in my bed, snuggled together for warmth, and I was almost asleep, when Lance nuzzled his head to my ear. I barely heard him whisper into my ear before I fell asleep, but I still understood it nonetheless. He had said, "I think I love you, Mulletboy."

                                                 Lance is sitting in front of me now. "Hello? Earth to Mullet?" I look up, immediately looking back down. "Were we.. um..... cuddling... when you said what you think you can't say again?"

                                                           Lance looks confused now. "What? Oh. When I.. yeah. We were."

              Clearing my throat, I stand, walking out of the room, because I still won't believe that Lance told me he loved me. Unless he says it again.To my face. Out loud. And I remember it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for all the suffering this chapter, but it only gets worse from here on out so be ready for torture.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, you have good reason to be worried. Hurt Keith is imminent because I'm addicted.


End file.
